


just a graze

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Kink Exploration, Knife Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not very menacing," Sehun says.</p><p>Zitao gives the knife a swift flick, bringing the blade back to skin. Not touching, though; he'd correctly assumed that Sehun would jolt. "I don't think you need me to be, Huna."</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a graze

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this kicking around in my drafts under the prompt 'but the sword is bendy??' for a few months so may as well release it into the wild（*￣＾￣*）

"Wait, _that's_ why you were playing with it?" Zitao looks absolutely scandalised, clutching the sword to his chest. "Huna, this is really important!"

Sehun cringes. "I know, I know. But you left it lying around. I just wanted.." Sehun shrugs. He'd wanted to see what handling it was like, how practical it would be to attempt any of the unasked for scenarios he's mentally played out from watching Zitao working with the damn thing so many times.

"It's dangerous," Zitao says sternly, and Sehun can't be sure if he looks more concerned for the sword.

"I know," Sehun repeats, shuffling his feet. He had really not wanted to get caught feeling this particular idea out. Zitao works too hard at these routines for Sehun to not feel a pang of guilt for objectifying it. Sure, Zitao wears a persona that can look bloodthirsty at times, but the real thing demands a week of sympathy for a paper cut.

"And not to mention unhygienic!"

Sehun doesn't feel he can keep excusing himself with the same two words, but there they are again. "I know," he sighs, "It was a stupid thing to even.. Can we forget about it? I'm sorry for taking it."

Zitao's lips push into a little pout as he considers the handle of the sword where it's cradled against his chest. "And it's impractical, Huna. It's a special blade, it's bendy," he continues as though he hasn't heard Sehun. Sehun's ears are pink and burning. "But, so, did you want to use it on me, or me to use it on you?"

Oh shit. "Oh. Shit." Prickling heat creeps over Sehun's nape as he gawps at Zitao. Zitao looks back sweet and nonchalantly pretty — the kind of pretty that's intentional. If Sehun had a fleeting hope that Zitao was asking just to be further horrified it's crashing and burning. Trying to console an offended Zitao suddenly feels like a lot less pressure than sating a curious one. "I, you. You? I mean." Sehun clears his throat. "I nearly dropped it just taking it out the cover, how would I..?" Sehun's laugh sounds terribly reedy in his own ears.

"But not like, cut anything off, right. Just.. what?"

"Uh. Just, stuff. I dunno." Sehun shrugs. He's not the best with words even without the pressure of Zitao's piqued interest. "I like— it looks dangerous. That's cool. I guess?"

"Huh." Zitao smiles. Sehun toes at the floor again.  _Say something_ , he thinks, but Zitao steps forward instead.

Zitao is too fast for him and, at speed, far too strong to even try and stop. Sehun hears himself gasp but doesn't feel his back coming into contact with the wall; Zitao is careful with him, and he doesn't doubt that he went easily. His head drops back with a thud, chin raised high as the length of the sword presses into his throat. He's not sure if he's trying to ease the pressure or maximise the vulnerability of the position, honestly, and Zitao doesn't give him time to think on it. There's weight against his shoulder as Zitao shifts better into position, and then the sword moves higher. It's a smooth, blunt glide over the curve of his throat, and by the time the pressure is digging just under his chin Sehun has come to his senses enough to realise that the sword is still sheathed.

"Shit." Sehun gulps, audible, and it makes the weight on his throat all the more noticeable. "You're a dick."

Zitao hums in agreement. "This kind of thing, though?" He looks so pleased with himself. The lack of malice somehow makes Sehun feel even more like shrivelling up. "But with a blade," Zitao needlessly adds, along with another small increase of pressure.

Sehun gasps again, loud in his own ears, and he hears it taper off into a throatier sound. No words find their way out as Sehun makes the most of the angle and exposure of his neck, but he's pretty sure he doesn't need to confirm. He just got— still is getting hard, and Zitao is close enough to know. And Zitao grins, because Zitao isn't one to miss a compliment. 

 

˘

 

It's taken nearly a week to find time, but after an extensive search of his room Zitao comes up with exactly what he'd been looking for. It's not the knife he'd taken with him to the jungle, the trusty well worn knife that had barely left his hand. It's the one he'd bought first because it looked hard-wearing and fancy, mentioned it to someone and been advised better.

"I had a lot of practice handling these." Zitao swings the knife, handle pinched between finger and thumb. Sehun isn't sure if it's showing off or flirting, but Zitao is right, and Sehun can't say it's not a comfort to already know that he has steady hands. The more Zitao demonstrates that he knows how to handle it the faster Sehun's pulse seems to thrum. 

The blade is the only thing that's out of place in the room Sehun shares with Junmyeon. He and Zitao, warm sunlight through the blinds (it's not as though midday is the ideal time for this, but privacy in the dorm is first come first serve, however generous Junmyeon is with his ignorance to them slipping away).

"So like we talked about before?" Zitao swings the knife again. It's so thoroughly disinfected it looks even brighter than the day he bought it. "No cutting or slicing or stabbing or.. anything bloody."

Ok, so maybe several things about this situation are out of place. "Yeah. No blood." Sehun's features scrunch at the thought. It had been Zitao's first assumption of what Sehun was asking for, and Sehun can't say he's not grateful for Zitao's lack of judgement and excess of enthusiasm.

That established, Zitao gestures with the blade for Sehun to undress. Sehun rolls his eyes. Of course Zitao is going to get all in character. And it's lame, but Sehun strips down to his underwear with heat radiating steadily hotter from his skin. 

 

Up until they start Sehun worries that it'll be awkward — has worried, vaguely, ever since he first pulled up a dictionary on his phone and discussed all of this for serious, but Zitao thrives in situations that allow him to impress. Sehun should have known Zitao would take this entirely seriously. And it's stupid, because Zitao is his emotional affectionate over-excitable boyfriend and he can't forget his usual demeanour, but with a knife in hand and his eyes darkening Sehun is briefly almost unable to remember.

Because ok, Zitao knows what expression he makes on stage when he's looking over the edge of a sword. Sehun could kick him for being as awful as to turn it on him now, but it's so unfairly effective and Zitao is so damn pleased, and Sehun is flat on the bed with Zitao's strong limbs boxing him in before he knows it. 

"You—" Sehun's lost track of which side the knife is on. "Need to support yourself properly, or—"

"Huna." Zitao's expression changes from sinister to unimpressed in a minute shift. "I know. I'm just.. what's, atno.. atm.."

"Atmosphere. Not necessary."

 

"Watch me," Zitao prompts, and he sounds kind of sweet again. Definitely sweet again, the way he pushes pillows up against the headboard for Sehun and tucks one in under his arm for him to squeeze. Sehun watches, lip sucked between teeth and bitten as Zitao flips the knife back into view with another practised move.

"Show off." Sehun isn't complaining. His voice comes out thick and tight. Zitao just grins and pats his thigh.

"It's going to be cold, Huna, ok?" Zitao warns, but it's as much the sight of blade to skin as the chill that makes Sehun jolt when Zitao presses the flat to his thigh. Zitao waits, watches his features closely. Rests a hand at Sehun's knee to keep him steady and drags the blade higher, all show and no pressure.

Sehun tenses, anticipatory, and lets out a long, shaking breath when there's no pain. Zitao promised he'd be careful, only do what Sehun asked. And what Sehun asked sounded stupid to his own ears; Zitao's smile as Sehun trembles makes that feel as bad as it did to say. "Fuck off if you're going to laugh, Tao."

Zitao doesn't lift the blade, because that's not where Sehun's complaint lies. "No no, no Huna." Zitao does lift it now, so there's no slip as he leans to press apologies to the centre of Sehun's bony chest. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing."

"You are."

"I are— am, but not—" Sehun winces at how expressive Zitao's hands remain regardless of what's in them. "I'm just happy you like it? I'm happy I'm doing it right, I wasn't sure. Seeing as you didn't like my atnos.."

"Atmosphere."

"Yeah, that."

Sehun isn't angry, not really. Just self conscious about if this is ok, if Zitao is ok. But Zitao is, very much so. He settles back on Sehun's calves and prods at the contour of muscle down his outer thigh with the handle of the knife. "So, wanna keep going?"

"You're not very menacing," Sehun says.

Zitao gives the knife a swift flick, bringing the blade back to skin. Not touching, though; he'd correctly assumed that Sehun would jolt. "I don't think you need me to be, Huna."

 

Zitao is still dressed, plain and expensive. The denim is soft where his knee parts Sehun's thighs, and none of the gentle trails with the blade broke skin but Sehun feels the irritation running in fine, precise lines.

"This feels stupid again," Sehun complains, squeezing down on the pillow Zitao had wedged under his arm and pulling at the edge for something to occupy his hands with. He feels stupid, now, with Zitao's thigh between his legs and no more denying how into this he is.

" _Huna_." Zitao isn't really the type for the precise patience involved in using rope, and he's too much both a sloppy perfectionist and concerned with the wellbeing of people he loves for doing something like that spontaneously. But right now he wishes he'd studied up on it a little before attempting something that requires Sehun to keep still. "Shut up and stop wiggling, I'm worried I'll cut you by accident." Zitao squeezes Sehun's jaw, raising his head for eye contact. It's all brattishness and no command. Sehun scowls. "Don't shut up," Zitao amends after a moment's thought, "Shut up complaining but talk lots about how you're doing, ok?"

"Ok." Sehun shakes free of Zitao's grip on his face. "My heavy annoying boyfriend is crushing my dick."

Zitao briefly feigns innocence before deciding that kneeling harder would be more beneficial. "It's not complaining."

True. It's that it feels anti-climatic that Sehun finds this embarrassing. A blade that teases skin but doesn't draw blood almost seems like a wasted effort. Zitao appears content with playing, though, because Zitao likes giving the people he loves nice things. Sehun is ( _clearly_ ) enjoying it, that's what matters, whether Sehun is obstinately disagreeable about Zitao thinking so or not.

He has a face, as Zitao has told him through breathless giggles numerous times (judging by Zitao's reaction it's not a flattering one). And Zitao hasn't touched him anywhere but the steadying hand to his chest, hasn't added pressure. He just slipped the blade under Sehun's chin, prompting him to expose his throat with a careful, steady nudge of the angled edge.

"Did you—" Zitao holds the knife aside and wiggles back in Sehun's lap to look down between their bodies. He sounds equal parts shocked and fascinated. Sehun can feel his face burning hot. "Did you just come? I didn't even— you did the face."

"That doesn't mean I did," Sehun says indignantly. But he totally did, in his boxers, against the pressure of Zitao's knee. It felt nice for a few seconds; it's feeling progressively grosser now. 

 

"Are you going to complain that much every time?" Zitao asks through the shower door, folding and refolding the towel in his arms while he waits. He has plans for the evening ahead and didn't want the bother of getting his hair wet, but he's happy to wait outside. Insisted on it, in fact. Sehun hears over the spray of water but doesn't reply. "I'll buy more. All kinds of things. I'll buy a proper sword."

Sehun snorts at that. "Yeah?"

"Mm. We can keep it in your room. No one would ever find it under all hyung's mess." 

"Don't you dare," Sehun warns, slicking his wet hair back and sliding the door enough to poke his head out. He's trying to look intimidating, or stern at the least, but all things considered Zitao just kisses the complaints from his mouth with a grin.

 

 

 


End file.
